


Into the River

by motherofschnauzers



Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, I think this is whump?, Jakes never left, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 22:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21216386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motherofschnauzers/pseuds/motherofschnauzers
Summary: A stakeout goes wrong and Morse ends up trapped in a sinking car in the river in the middle of a snow storm at night.





	Into the River

Morse wasn’t entirely sure how he ended up with Fancy as a stakeout partner, but it was going about as well as he expected it would. He had originally been partnered with Jakes, but Jakes had, at the last minute, decided to partner with Strange instead and so Morse was stuck with Fancy. The problem was that Fancy kept trying to talk to him. If it had been about the case Morse wouldn’t have minded, but Fancy insisted on trying to strike up a conversation about sports or pop music or random television shows Morse had never heard of. Finally, Morse had snapped at Fancy to concentrate on the reason they were there and the constable had lapsed into a moody silence. 

They had been trying to pin down a group of robbers that had been hitting the ornate homes along various stretches of the river and canals. The thieves had mostly gone after the expected jewelry, silver, and any other expensive items they could get there hands on, but the last heist had been interrupted by the homeowners coming home late from a party and had ended in a double homicide. Now the CID was under heavy pressure to catch the thieves before anyone else was killed. 

And so Morse and Fancy were sat in a freezing unmarked car right next to the river bank keeping watch on the street. The hour was growing increasingly late and the temperature was dropping, a fact that only added to the sour mood in the car. They had to keep the engine off which meant no heat and both Morse and Fancy were huddled in several layers of winter clothing. 

Morse wasn’t entirely sure why they were bothering with a stakeout this particular evening. Not long after he and Fancy had parked up by the river, snow had started to fall and at this point the snow was coming down so thickly that Morse doubted that any getaway car was going to be able to make it through Oxford’s buried and icy streets. He was torn between wanting to go home and dreading having to drive through the thickening layer of snow. 

Beside him, Fancy shifted in his seat for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes. The seat squeaked every time the constable moved and it was steadily adding to Morse’s frustration. 

“What?” he finally snapped at Fancy. 

Fancy jumped and looked at him. “Nothing,” he said. 

Morse snorted. “Well, whatever it is, stop moving so much will you? That sound is driving me up the wall. ”

They were silent for a few minutes, but when Fancy shifted again, causing a particularly loud squeak of the seat, Morse gave him such a severe look that he shrank back against the passenger door. 

“Sorry,” the boy muttered. “I just really need to piss.”

Morse sighed. “Well go on then. Get out and get it over with.”

“What if someone sees?” Fancy asked.

“No one is going to see, Fancy,” Morse said. “They’d be mad to try and pull something in this weather. Go on, go.”

Fancy nodded and hopped out of the car. As he disappeared down the river bank the car radio crackled into life and he heard Strange’s voice. 

“Suspect’s just tried a house but made us. They’re in a white Morris speeding west down Rosely Lane. Jakes and I are in pursuit.”

Morse looked up and sure enough he could see headlights speeding down the road heading towards where he was parked. Not far behind he could see the flash of a police siren. He swore and twisted the keys to start the ignition. But then, as he jammed the car into gear, the scene changed. 

He felt as if he was watching in slow motion. The speeding white car skidded, it’s back end flying out and suddenly the headlights were pointing directly at him. He was blinded by the bright lights, but in the split second he had, he realized that the car was heading right for him, that the car was going to hit his car. Somehow his body was moving, dragging itself to the passenger side of the car as the out of control car slammed right into where he had just been sitting. Morse was thrown backwards against the passenger door. His head slammed into the glass window and his ribs screamed as the air was knocked out of him. The world went black as pain exploded through his head. Then he gasped for air as freezing cold water flooded into the car and despite the pain he was brought back to a state of awareness. 

He was in the river, he realized. The speeding car had pushed his car into the river. And he was sinking rapidly. Already the water was up to his chest. Morse looked around desperately for a way out, trying to make his sluggish brain work. He felt frozen in place by the icy water, his limbs already numb. The drivers side of the car was caved in, offering no escape. He forced himself to turn and try the passenger door. It wouldn’t budge. 

The water was up to his neck now and quickly encroaching on his face. He pushed himself up to the top of the car to keep his face above the water and tried kicking out a window. But the glass held strong. 

Morse presses his face against the car roof, struggling to stay in the rapidly shrinking air pocket. He took one last deep breath and then the air was gone. He was surrounded by nothing but twisted metal, cracked glass, and freezing water. His lungs were burning and his entire body was numb. He kept kicking and punching at the window, willing it to break. But the more he moved the more air he used up. After one punch he had to stop himself from screaming as pain rippled up his arm. His lungs burned and burned and burned, screaming at him to breath. But he couldn’t. He had no air left. 

He kicked out again and this time the glass cracked under his foot. One more kick. Just one more kick and he would be free. But his body wouldn’t cooperate any more. He was too numb, too frozen to move again. His lungs felt ready to burst. He punched the window with his good hand but there was no strength behind it, he had none left. And then, finally, his body betrayed him. The world was going black again at the edges of his vision. He couldn’t hold his breath any longer and he felt his lungs expand as his body forced him to breath. Icy water filled his lungs. Pain shot through him, like the water was trying to rip his lungs from his chest. The world went completely black and Morse knew no more.

* * *

Thursday watched in horror as the black car disappeared beneath the river. That was Morse’s car. Morse and Fancy’s car. The wrecked white Morris was half submerged in the river too, but not so much that its occupants couldn’t try to escape. Jakes and Strange had caught up first, skidding to a stop just feet from the river bank. Thursday and Trewlove had been in the car behind them, but the two Sergeants had grabbed the thieves before they got away, hauling them back to their pursuit car.

Behind him, he could hear Trewlove radioing for an ambulance. He was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but stare at where Morse’s car had been just moments before. 

“Fancy! No!” Strange’s voice called out. Confused, Thursday turned just in time to see Fancy dive into the river and disappear below the surface. Had Fancy not been in the car then? Why wasn’t he in the car with Morse? 

Thursday found his legs again and ran forward, following Strange and Jakes as they reached the river. They shone their torch lights onto the water where Fancy’s head had disappeared. 

“Fancy!” called Strange again. 

And then, a dark haired head broke the surface follows by a tawny one. They all reached out to help Fancy back onto the shore and with him came the limp and lifeless body of Thursday’s bagman. 

Thursday and Jakes pulled Morse from Fancy’s grip as Strange helped the young constable to his feet. Morse was ice cold, paler than Thursday had ever seen him, and he wasn’t breathing. Gently, he and Jakes laid Morse down in the snow and Thursday immediately began chest compressions. 

“Come on, lad,” he heard himself say. “I need you to breath for me.” He kept pumping Morse’s chest, occasionally stopping to press his mouth to Morse’s and breathe air into him. But it wasn’t working. Morse remained limp and lifeless. Finally, Jakes pushed him out of the way and took over chest compressions. 

“Breathe, you bastard, breathe,” Jakes growled as he pushed on Morse’s chest. 

Thursday just stared at Morse’s pale face. He was going to lose him, he thought. He was going to lose his bagman, his friend, his surrogate son. Tears pricked in his eyes. Snow was settling in the boy’s hair. His lips were blue. And still he did not breathe. 

“Please, Endeavour,” he heard himself say. “Please, just breathe.”

And then Morse’s body convulsed. Quickly, Thursday grabbed his shoulders and rolled the boy towards him onto his side. Morse coughed and coughed, bringing up lungful after lungful of water. And then, he took a deep shuddering breath and coughed some more. Thursday couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter in relief and it didn’t sound like the only one. He looked up to see Jakes also laughing. Strange and a sodden shivering Fancy were both crying at the sight of Morse breathing again. He looked down at Morse and saw his eye flicker, but not open. And then he saw the blood. The snow where Morse’s head had lain was bright red and as he examined the back of the lad’s skull he saw more blood dripping from a large gash to the snow below. 

Thursday swore. “Trewlove, where’s that ambulance!”

“It’s on its way, sir,” she called. He turned to see her running towards him. “But they say it might take a while because the roads are so bad.” She looked from Fancy to Morse as she came to stand beside them. “We need to get them out of those clothes,” she said. 

“W-what?” Fancy said, barely able to get the word out against the chattering of his teeth. 

“We need to get you out of those wet clothes and somewhere warm,” she said. “It’s snowing. You’re going to be hypothermic in minutes!” She bent down to touch Morse. “I think Morse already is…”

Thursday forced himself to push away his relief that Morse was breathing and his panic at his injuries. The ambulance wasn’t going to be here anytime soon. They were on their own. They’d have to deal with this themselves. 

“Right,” Thursday barked. “We can’t wait for the ambulance. Strange, get Fancy out of those wet clothes and over to my car and give him your jacket. Trewlove, get that car heater going on full blast. Jakes, you help me with Morse.”

They all dispersed. Fancy, Strange, and Trewlove went to the jag. Thursday and Jakes hoisted Morse up between them as gently as they could and carried him towards the car. When they reached the jag, Strange was helping Fancy out of his clothes and wrapping him in his coat. Trewlove had done as she was told and turned up the car heater and Thursday glanced around to see her grabbing blankets from the backs of their two remaining cars.

Thursday turned back to Jakes. “I’ll hold him up, you get his clothes off.” Jakes nodded, his mouth set in a grim line. Together they pulled Morse’s soaking clothes off. Strange and Trewlove appeared beside them to help. Between the four of them they got Morse stripped of every article of clothing. Thursday new that if Morse was conscious he would be vehemently objecting to being treated like this, but they had no choice but to strip him naked. The wet clothes had already leached too much warmth from his frozen body. 

Jakes pulled off his coat and wrapped it around Morse’s naked form, followed by a blanket from Trewlove. Thursday shifted his grip on Morse and, with Strange’s help, pulled off his own coat to wrap around Morse. 

“Help me get him in the back seat,” Thursday said. The others took Morse from him and Thursday slid into the back of the jag. Then he pulled Morse after him so he was cradling him, the lad’s head was resting against his chest. The boy’s breathing was shallow and uneven, but still there at least. They really needed to get him to the hospital. 

“Trewlove, you drive,” he said starting out the still open door. “Jakes and Strange, you deal with that rotten lot in your car.”

They nodded in agreement and closed the door. Thursday looked up as Trewlove slipped into the driver’s seat. Fancy was sat in the passenger seat, wrapped tightly in Strange’s massive jacket and a blanket. He was still shivering, teeth chattering, but the blasting car heater had already put some colour back in his cheeks. Trewlove pulled her jacket off and handed it to Thursday.

“Here,” she said. “Hold that to the back of his head.”

Thursday nodded his thanks and pressed the jacket to Morse’s injured head. The boy’s eyes flickered, a pained frown crossed his face, and a low groan escaped him.

“Shh,” Thursday said. “I know, lad. Just hang tight. We’ll get you to help soon.”

Trewlove pulled the car back onto the street, but progress was slow. The snow had only increased in its intensity and the roads were slicker than ever. 

“H-how far t-t-to the h-hosptial?” Fancy managed to say around his chattering teeth.

“Normally, not far,” Trewlove said. “But with roads like this we can’t go as fast as I’d like.” She turned a corner painfully slowly but still Thursday felt the car skid slightly. Trewlove managed to keep control and they continued down the deserted street. The windscreen wipers were waving frantically against the snow. 

Thursday turned his attention back to Morse. Unlike Fancy, the lad wasn’t shivering. His breath was still shallow and uneven. Thursday pressed his fingers against Morse’s neck and found his pulse slow and weak. He used his free hand to rub the boy’s body through the layers of blankets and coats. 

“Just hold on, son,” he whispered. “Just hold on, we’re not far now.”

The journey was long and slow. Several times Trewlove almost lost control of the car, but she managed to right their course. He wanted to yell at her to go faster, but he knew it would do no good for them to crash the car. If they lost the car, they lost Morse. Thursday began to feel overheated and he could see from Trewlove’s flushed cheeks that she felt the same. But for Fancy and Morse’s sake, the heater stayed on full blast. Fancy at least seemed to be warming up. His teeth had stopped chattering and though he was still shivering, it was less intense that it had been before. His cheeks had regained their colour. Fancy hadn’t looked away from Morse since they had set off from the river bank, his young face creased with concern for his sergeant. 

After what felt like an age, they finally pulled up in front of the hospital. Trewlove left the car running as she went to get help. Nurses and doctors came running out, trundling hospital gurneys with them. Morse and Fancy were pulled onto one each and whisked away through the hospital doors. Thursday felt Trewlove touch his arm. 

“You go in, sir,” she said. “I’ll park the car.”

He nodded his thanks and followed the tracks in the snow that led to the hospital. He was directed by a nurse to a waiting room. He had just sat in an uncomfortable chair when another nurse came out to interrogate him as to what had happened. 

He explained as much as he could. That Morse had been in the car when it was hit. That he had been trapped as the car disappeared beneath the river. That Fancy had dived in after him. That Morse hadn’t been breathing. The nurse noted it all down without emotion. 

“Thank you, Inspector,” she finally said. “Someone will come update you when there’s news.” She left and Thursday was alone. He sat staring at his shaking hands. They, like his clothes, were covered in Morse’s blood. He clenched his fists. He didn’t know how long he sat like that, but eventually Trewlove appeared next to him. 

“Any word?” she asked. 

Thursday shook his head. She sat in the chair next to him. They were silent, listening to the footsteps of passing nurses and doctors. 

“I called Mr. Bright,” Trewlove finally said. 

“Good. Good,” Thursday said. “Good thinking, Constable.” Thursday leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. “This was all a right mess.”

“We got the suspects,” Trewlove said. 

“And almost lost Fancy and Morse.”

Trewlove made no reply. He looked at her and saw tears running down her face. It was then that he remembered that she and Fancy, well, fancied each other. He wanted to reach out and tell her everything will be alright, that they would be fine. But the words caught in his throat, strangled by his own fear. 

Finally, he croaked out, “Fancy will be fine. Damn lucky he wasn’t in the car.”

“Yes, very lucky,” she said. 

Neither dared comment on Morse. They sat in silence for what felt like hours. Finally, Thursday stood. He couldn’t stand having Morse’s blood on his hands any longer. He nodded to Trewlove and walked off to the bathroom. He furiously scrubbed his hands until finally every last drop of red was gone. Then he went out, found a phone, and called Win. 

The phone only rang once before she answered. She must have stayed up waiting for him. She usually did when he was out late. 

“Hello?”

“Hello, love,” he said. 

“Oh, Fred, is everything alright?”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “I’m at the hospital. It’s Morse. His car got hit and pushed into the river.” 

He heard her gasp. “Is he going to be alright?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “He’s with the doctors now.” He couldn’t tell her that Morse hadn’t been breathing when they pulled him from the river. The words were stuck in his throat. 

“Oh, Fred.”

“I’ll call you when I know more. Just wanted to hear your voice.”

“He’ll be fine, I’m sure,” Win said. “I’ll drop by as soon as the roads are clear.”

They said their goodbyes and Thursday went back to the waiting room. He was startled to see Jakes and Strange sitting with Trewlove. Despite his surprise, he merely nodded in greeting. 

“Ambulance made it out eventually,” Jakes supplied. “Brought the two thieving bastards here since they’d been in a car crash. Mr. Bright says he’s sending over some PCs to keep an eye on them.”

Thursday nodded again. He was glad he had decided not to wait for the ambulance. If they had, Morse would most certainly have died. 

It was another hour before they received any news. During that time a group of PCs arrived and quickly disappeared deeper into the hospital, undoubtedly going to keep watch over the two murderous thieves who were the cause of the whole mess. A doctor came to tell them they could see Fancy. The lad was sitting up in bed, wrapped tightly in multiple blankets, with a hot water bottle at his feet. Thursday only stayed long enough to see that the constable was alright before retreating back to the waiting room. He sat in silence, waiting. Jakes joined him after a while and not long after Strange did too. They evidently wanted to give Trewlove and Fancy some time together. Finally, another doctor emerged from behind the waiting room doors.

“Are you here for Mr. Morse?” he said.

Thursday jumped to his feet. “How is he?”

“He’s alive, but his condition is delicate. He has several broken bones and he was severely hypothermic. We’re warming him up and it's really just a case of letting him rest and waiting for him to wake up.”

“Can we see him?” Thursday asked.

The doctor considered them for a moment, then nodded. “Yes, but please try not to disturb him. As I said, his condition is delicate.”

They followed the doctor down the long hospital corridors before coming to a stop outside a room. The door was slightly ajar and Thursday could hear the faint beeping of a heart monitor coming from inside. The doctor repeated his warning not to disturb his patient and then allowed them into the room.

Thursday stood at the end of the bed and stared down at Morse. The boy was propped up in bed at a gentle angle. He was buried until a small mountain of blankets, completely obscuring most signs of his injuries. The only exception was the bandage wrapped around his head. An oxygen mask was strapped to his face and Thursday took a moment to watch his chest rise and fall under the blankets. His breath was stronger than it had been when Thursday last saw him. Several wires emerged from beneath the blankets, leading to the beeping heart monitor. An IV drip also disappeared beneath the blankets by Morse’s arm.

He could hear Strange quietly questioning the doctor and forced himself to listen.

“He’s got a few broken ribs and a broken arm. It looks like he hit his head fairly badly, but he was lucky to avoid a skull fracture. We stitched up the laceration at the back of his head. He will most likely have a concussion, although we won’t know for sure until he wakes up. Now we’re just getting his body back up to a normal temperature.”

Thursday gripped the end of the bed tightly, unable to take his eyes off his unconscious bagman. He felt a hand on his shoulder and glanced over to see Strange standing beside him.

“Sit down, guv,” he said. “Jakes and I will go rustle up some tea.” Thursday glanced towards the plastic chair by the wall, then grabbed it and settled down next to Morse’s bed. When Jakes, Strange, the doctor, and the nurses finally left him alone he reached under the blankets to find Morse’s hand. He found his arm wrapped in a rigid plaster cast, but the boy’s fingers were peeking out the end. Thursday grasped them as well as he could, trying to be gentle. Morse stirred slightly, turning his head towards the touch. He breathed in deeply and his eyes fluttered open. His blue eyes were glazed and unfocused, but they came to rest on Thursday all the same. A smile spread across Thursday’s face and he reached with is other hand to gently stroke the boy’s curls. Morse leaned into the touch.

“Shh,” he said. “You’re alright. You’re in the hospital. Everything is fine.”

Morse tried to murmur something, but his voice was low and obscured by the oxygen mask. Thursday just shushed him again and kept stroking his hair.

“Go back to sleep, lad,” he said. “Just sleep.” He began to quietly sing a lullaby he’d sung for his children when they were young. He could see Morse’s eyes growing heavy and soon the lad was gently snoring into his oxygen mask. Thursday kept stroking the boy’s hair while he slept, watching the even rise and fall of his chest. Strange and Jakes didn’t reappear, but Thursday was fine with that. He was content to sit here and wait for his bagman, his friend, his surrogate son to wake up when he was ready to.

* * *

It was the following afternoon by the time Win arrived at the hospital. She brought with her a change of clothes for Thursday and a bag full of sandwiches for everyone keeping vigil over Morse and Fancy. Even Fancy was allowed to have the sandwiches, much to his delight. Thursday was relieved to get out of his bloody clothes and felt much better after splashing his face with some cold water from the bathroom tap. 

Thursday, Jakes, and Strange had taken turns sitting with Morse during the night while the others slept. Trewlove’s tired face showed she had likely slept in the chair next to Fancy’s bed. The hospital staff had, thankfully, never tried to kick them out, most likely due to the snowy weather outside. Morse had been a little restless during the night and more than once Thursday had been woken by Jakes or Strange to help sooth the boy back to sleep. Thursday, it seemed, was the only one who could. 

As Thursday reentered Morse’s room in his fresh clothes, the lad was stirring again as Win tucked one of their woven woolen blankets from home around him. Before Thursday could reach the bed, Win was already stroking Morse’s cheek and the boy settled again. Thursday couldn’t help smiling. Of course Win was the only other person capable of soothing the lad. 

Fancy had been released late that afternoon, having recovered from his hypothermia. He, Trewlove, Jakes, and Strange were sat on the floor against the wall opposite Morse’s bed, eating sandwiches and talking quietly. Nurses popped in and out of the room to check on their patient. One of them took the oxygen mask away, which made Morse scrunch his face in his sleep, but he didn’t wake. Fred and Win sat together by Morse’s bedside eating their sandwiches and watching their boy sleep.

* * *

Morse felt like he was floating. Everything around him was warm and soft and he felt content to just float there for a while longer. He was vaguely aware of a distant ache, but he shrank away from it, not wanting to acknowledge it. His head felt like it was full of cotton. His thoughts were slow and hazy and he was happy to let them drift. Fuzzy memories of soothing hands and calming voices came to him, only adding to his comfortable cocoon.

Then a voice cut through the fog. An annoying voice that he instantly recognized. Fancy. The ache in his head grew to a steady pounding. Why couldn’t Fancy just let him sleep? He could hear other voices talking nearby and a steady beeping sound that was also quickly getting on his nerves. His arm felt heavy and when he flexed his fingers, he could feel that it was encased by something sturdy and rigid. He tried to move his other arm and felt a sharp pinch on the back of his hand. Fancy’s voice reached him again, irritating as ever and Morse couldn’t stand it any longer. He’d run out of patience.

“Fancy, will you shut it!” he mumbled burying his face deep into the soft pillow supporting his head. There was silence, followed by some muffled laughter. Morse ignored it. His head was pounding and he wanted to return to the floating soft place he had been in before. 

“Morse?” a voice said near his ear. “You awake, lad?”

Morse groaned and turned his head away from the voice. Why couldn’t he just sleep? Far away he heard someone say something like, “Fancy, you try,” but he ignored them. 

“Morse?” Fancy’s voice said, much closer this time. A hand came to rest on his shoulder. “You awake, sarg? Morse?”

He rolled away trying to get as far as possible from Fancy. His ribs protested and he groaned again. He had been comfortable before. Why did the damn constable insist on disturbing him?

“Hey, come on now. Morse?” Fancy said. The hand on his shoulder shook him lightly. That was the last straw. Morse whipped around, sitting up to face Fancy. He opened his eyes, but had to quickly shut them again against the light. His head and ribs throbbed in protest. He squinted up at Fancy, whose face was very close.

“I thought I told you to shut it, Fancy!” he said, letting every ounce of his irritation seep into his voice.

But Fancy just grinned at him, a big stupid grin that shouldn’t have been on his face when Morse was reprimanding him. There was laughter around him. Morse glanced around and for the first time realized that he was surrounded by people. He was evidently in a hospital bed. Besides Fancy, there was also Strange, Jakes, Trewlove, Thursday, and Mrs. Thursday looking down at him. He furrowed his brow in confusion as they smiled down at him, Jakes and Strange still chuckling.

“What-” he began.

“Easy, lad,” Thursday said. His guvnor reached out and pushed on Morse’s shoulders until he collapsed back against his pillows. “Do you remember what happened?”

Morse closed his eyes. The light was still far too bright and the pounding in his head had reached its peak. What had happened? Why was he in a hospital bed surrounded by his colleagues and Mrs. Thursday? He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. Then it hit him. The stakeout, the car hitting his car, the rising water. He opened his eyes and stared around him.

“How’d I get out of the car?” he croaked. He suddenly realized how dry his mouth was. Trewlove held out a cup of water for him. He raised his right arm to take it, but found it encased in a thick cast. He lifted his other hand and took the water, giving Trewlove a small nod in thanks. He took a sip.

“Fancy dove in after you and pulled you out,” Thursday said.

Morse stared at Thursday for a moment and then at Fancy. Fancy just shrugged and kept grinning.

“Damn lucky you kicked me out,” he said. 

“And the suspects?” Morse asked. Everyone around him groaned, except Jakes who laughed.

“Course that’s what you ask as soon as you wake up,” Jakes said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, me and Strange got em.”

“Christ, Morse,” Thursday muttered.

Morse closed his eyes and sighed. He felt someone take the cup from his hand and he raised it up to rub his eyes. His head really was throbbing.

“Alright, let’s give the man some space,” he heard Thursday say. There was murmuring around him and the sound of feet. Then another thought occurred to him and he forced himself to open his eyes again. 

“Wait, what are you all doing here anyway?” he said.

They all turned to stare at him.

“What do you think we’re doing here?” Jakes asked. When Morse just stared at him, he rolled his eyes.

Strange stepped forward. “We were worried about you, matey. Wanted to make sure you’d be alright.”

Morse just continued to frown, confused. Surely, they all hadn’t cared that much. Had they? They all looked as though they’d spent the night in the hospital. He couldn’t wrap his brain around it. He heard Thursday sigh behind him and shoo the others out of the room. They said their goodbyes. Trewlove promised to let the doctor know that Morse was awake. Then, he was alone with the Thursdays. He closed his eyes, wincing at the pain in his head, his ribs, and his arm. In fact, his whole body was aching. He felt a small hand stroke his hair and opened his eyes to look up at Mrs. Thursday. She smiled down at him. His eyes flicked to DI Thursday standing next to her. 

“Why-” Morse began but the Thursdays both shushed him.

“Relax, lad,” Thursday said. “The doc will be here soon to check you over.”

“But-” Morse tried again.

“You gave us a right fright last night, Endeavour,” Thursday said, seriously. “You weren’t breathing when Fancy pulled you out that river. We thought we’d lost you. Nearly did. So you just do us all a favor and sit back and recover, alright?”

Morse frowned at him for using his first name, but didn’t have the energy to be truly annoyed. He was growing more tired by the minute.

“But why were you all here?” he finally managed to say. “Surely there were better things for everyone to do?”

Thursday gave him a sad look. Mrs. Thursday leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“That’s what friends are for, Morse,” Thursday said.

Morse didn’t entirely understand what Thursday was trying to say, but his exhaustion was catching up with him. The soothing rhythm of Mrs. Thursday’s hand stroking his hair distracted him from the worst of the pain in his body and he closed his eyes again, content to relax for a while. He’d figure it all out when his head and body didn’t hurt so much.

**Author's Note:**

> I had a need to write a drowning fic. So here it is. I wrote this at 2am on my phone so I apologize for any typos I missed while editing. Enjoy! Comments welcome if you want to!


End file.
